Bartowski Chronicles: The Next Generation REDONE
by 00Awesome
Summary: Set in the year 2037, Tyler Bartowski, the eldest son of Chuck and Sarah is working for the CIA. When he embarks on a mission, he gets more than what he bargained for when his family gets involved and he discovers well-kept secrets. This is all while trying to take down a powerful enemy. Note: This is a completely different story to the first publishing.


**AN: This is a redone version of my story, Bartowski Chronicles: The Next Generation, note that this is a completely different story to my original. It focuses mainly on the spy life of Chuck and Sarah's eldest son, Tyler. There will be some family stuff incorporated but not in the first chapter. Anyway, hope you enjoy and please review.  
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* * *

**Bartowski Chronicles: The Next Generation REDONE  
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**Chapter 1: Carmichael, Travis Carmichael  
**

**_May 22, 2037  
__Washington DC  
_**

The hotel bar was moderately full. It was time for twenty-four year old Agent Tyler Bartowski to start his mission. Dressed handsomely in a suit and dress shoes, his blonde hair nicely groomed, he entered the room. Spotting a lone brunette at the bar, he spoke into his watch.

"The brunette ten o'clock," he spoke into his watch.

"Exactly, remember be charming," a voice came through his earpiece.

"You know me," he grinned, subtly. "I'm always charming."

Making his way up to the bar, next to the brunette. He placed his order. "Martini," he told the bartender. "Shaken, not stirred."

"Well aren't you original," the brunette said flatly.

Tyler turned his attention to her. "Excuse me?"

"James Bond drink, not exactly original," she said.

"And what would you recommend?"

"The daiquiri's are nice. Although my favorite would be the cognac," she said.

"Well then a cognac it shall be," he said. "Bartender," he called. "A glass of cognac."

"Sir, our cognac is a hundred and fifty dollars a bottle."

Tyler smiled charmingly. "Then make it happen."

The brunette suddenly seemed a lot more interested in him. Tyler remembered reading something in her file saying she was into rich guys, very rich guys. The cognac seemed to put the mission into motion. He was just grateful this was all on the CIA's tab and not his own.

"Quite the big spender aren't we?" she said as the bartender delivered his cognac.

"Well you only live once," Tyler said, taking a sip. "Why not make the most of it?"

She nodded. "That's a very valid point."

"And if I may ask what's a beautiful young woman like yourself doing alone on a Friday night?"

"Just killing time. It get's rather boring sometimes. You know the feeling Mr...?"

"Carmichael," Tyler said, giving his cover name and offering a handshake. "Travis Carmichael. And I know the feeling."

"Courtney Fineman," she shook his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you Miss Fineman. It is Miss, isn't it?"

Courtney blushed slightly. "Yes it is and you can call me Courtney."

"In that case, you can call me Travis. May I buy you a drink Courtney?"

"A cognac would do nicely."

Tyler ordered her the drink and it was delivered quickly.

"So tell me Travis, what do you do?"

"Well, I'm in investing. Particularly in the stock market, but I dabble here and there in real estate and currencies and precious metals. Have to be careful with where your money goes."

"Of course," she said, moving closer to him. She began playing with his tie. It was -like the rest of his suit- tailored Giorgio Armani, expensive.

"And if you don't mind my asking, how much money do you make from your investments?"

"Well," Tyler played slightly uncomfortable. "I'm not very comfortable talking about work outside of, well work."

"It's alright, Travis. It'll be our little secret."

"Hmm, I did hit five million on my investment of gold. But that's not much compared to what I made investing in a Japanese company last year. That's confidential between me and the owner of course," he finished off his cognac.

"Well then, Travis, how about we go up to my room and you give me a lesson on investing my money in the right places," she said seductively.

"Oh, I really don't know Courtney."

"What's the matter Travis? You don't have a girlfriend do you?"

"Of course not."

"Well then, what's stopping you?"

Tyler pretended to think, before nodding his head. "I suppose nothing is. Shall we go?"

Courtney smiled. "I wouldn't dream of anything else."

Tyler left a couple of bills on the counter before heading to the elevator with Courtney.

"So what room are you?"

"513," she said.

"513, must be my lucky day." The ding went off on the elevator as the two of them walked off to room 513. Juts as they reached the door, Tyler's IPhone went off. Glancing at the caller ID, Tyler turned to Courtney.

"Sorry, I have to take this."

"Oh, come on Travis," she said, playing with his tie. "It can't wait?"

"Business stuff, sorry. Gotta check up on how the investments are doing. You know?"

"Fine, but hurry up. I'll change into something more comfortable," she said, heading into the room and closing the door.

"Ricky, talk to me."

"She's already tranqued, I'm searching for the disks as we speak."

"You work fast for someone who when we started training couldn't shoot without the gun almost flying out of his hand."

"Shut up, Ty. I'm looking for the disks. Anyone around?"

"Uh," Tyler glanced around quickly. "No. Need any help?"

"Actually no, you keep watch."

"Got it." Tyler waited patiently by the door, tapping his foot against the floor, as the noise from the inside was going through his phone. It was about five minutes when he finally heard his partner call out through the phone.

"Jackpot!" the door opened and Ricky was grinning with the disks proudly in his hand.

"Nice, let's move."

* * *

The two agents sprinted towards the van, Ricky hopped into the driver's seat as they drove off. Tyler removed the disks from the encased zip-lock bag they were in. Examining them closely, he squinted.

"Bit too easy, wouldn't you say?"

"You're developing a bit of an ego problem," Ricky grinned. "You might be turning into Anderson." Bradley Anderson was their team leader although he operated as a sort of handler/mission controller.

"No I mean, seriously. Stuff like this is usually hidden in some safe hidden behind a painting, hidden behind another wall entirely. You found them in a zip-lock bag in five minutes."

"Perhaps, Mr Son-of-former-agents you underestimate my skill," he joked playfully

"I do no such thing."

Ricky shrugged. "Whatever. We'll just get back to base, hand in the disks and we're free for the rest of the week."

Tyler shrugged. "I guess."

"Excited to see your girlfriend?" Ricky teased

Tyler narrowed his eyes. "Shut up and drive."

The drive back to the base or as Tyler often liked to refer to it as the new-new Castle was no longer than fifteen minutes. He remembered his parent's stories about when they were spies, and how there was Castle, and then how there was the new Castle from underneath the Buy More.

Things were running fairly well in life. His younger brother Steven John or SJ for short was was twenty-three, a Stanford graduate and software designer for some big-shot computer company. The youngest, Samantha or Sam had graduated from UCLA, earning a degree in business and several languages, was now traveling through Europe for work.

Tyler's 'kind-of-girlfriend' was Rachel Summers. They'd met in Cornell and were eventually recruited to the CIA together. Despite their mutual liking and attraction of each other, neither one was really sure they were exactly 'in love' and they both knew that having a personal relationship withing the CIA was not a particularly good idea. Even though he knew of his parents' story of how they managed to have a relationship in the CIA, he still wasn't sure and neither was Rachel.

The van parked and Tyler and Ricky made their way into 'new-new-Castle'. It was located under Hansen and Co. Law offices, as the cover. Expecting to find Anderson and Rachel, neither was there and instead there was a mess, smashed screens, broken computers, the whole lot.

"What the hell happened?" Ricky said.

One of the non smashed screens came to life and the face of current CIA Director Joseph Hayes came on.

"Bartowski, Dawson," he adressed. "I'm afraid something has happened."

"You don't say?" Tyler muttered, the Director ignored this.

"Several weeks ago we sent Agent Anderson on an undercover mission."

"That would explain his absence," Tyler said. Although, he was a bit curious as to why Anderson would be sent, he might have been experienced but he was well into his fifties, if not already his sixties. Why send him?

"He sent us information on enemy agents and this is the work of one of them. The Base was invaded by a man we've identified as Thomas Williams, aka 'The Trasher'. In his youth he had a history for trashing everywhere he could and now we assume he's been sent to recover information from the Base. However, he isn't exactly clean with his handiwork," Hayes continued.

"Where's Agent Summers?" Tyler asked.

"She's on a joint mission with an NSA agent. She's fine, Agent Bartowski," the Director spoke.

"What do you want us to do?" Ricky asked.

"We'll need you and Agent Bartowski to see what Williams was looking for or what he got. We're sending a team over as we speak. Did you obtain the disks?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, see what's on them and report as soon as you know."

"Yes sir."

"That's all. We'll be in touch, Agent Dawson, Agent Bartowski." The screen went black.

"Guess we should start taking inventory of what Trasher took," Ricky half strolled around, hands in his pockets. Tyler was already removing a laptop from a bag and the disks that they had recovered from Courtney Fineman's hotel room.

"What are you doing, Ty?"

"Checking what's in the disks."

"On your laptop?"

"Look around you, Rick," he gestured to the smashed screens. "Can you see somewhere else I could try?"

Ricky went up to the computer where Tyler inputted the first of the four disks into the disk drive and and closed it. The disk made a whirring noise and began to update. When it had fully loaded in about ten seconds, the screen went blank.

"What the..." Tyler rebooted the screen. It loaded and inside everything was deleted. Every file, every folder, every icon.

"Ty, what's happening?"

"The disk doesn't have the information," he paused. "It wipes it out."

"Why?"

Tyler began to rack his brain. "My parents...they-they told me something about this virus they took on a mission. The Omen! Yeah, That's it, the Omen virus. It was suppose to be able to erase the internet at stuff like that."

"So they re-developed it or what?" Ricky guessed.

"I dunno. But it's a good thing this is on my laptop, if it was one of those," he gestured to the smashed screens. "Who knows what it would have wiped out?"

"You're files gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, it's all backed up on an external. But this doesn't have information. Check the others."

And so they did, but it was the same result. Someone had re-created the Omen virus into four different disks, each being able to delete a substantial amount by itself, but together, do the work of the Omen. They reported their findings to the Director who suggested they head home and get some sleep.

* * *

**_Tyler Bartowski's Apartment_**

**_10:30PM_**

Tyler leaned back on his couch with a packet of cheese balls in one hand. He always ate them after a long day at work. There was an old World War Two movie on but those were never really his thing. He remembered when he was about nine or ten, his Uncle Casey made him and SJ watch a couple. To him they were all pretty much the same so after the third movie, they asked Casey if they could watch Indiana Jones or Star Wars. Uncle Casey walked away, mumbling something about them 'definitely being Bartowskis.'

Deciding to try his luck, he called Rachel, her number was on speed-dial anyway.

"Hey," she answered.

"Hey, Rach. Where you been?"

"Mission," she said. "Hayes assigned me to go to this party thing, find some arms dealer."

"Success?"

"Yeah. What about you? Dawson tells me that new-new Castle was trashed."

"Yeah," Tyler replied. "Tried to take something apparently, though the guy's not exactly clean with his getaways. Or his work to be perfectly honest."

"So hard to find good enemies these days," she joked.

"Tell me about it."

"So youe mission?"

"Success."

"Go on."

"Brunette, into rich guys, has some disks the CIA wants. I charmed her, Ricky stole the disks, we went back to base," he summarized quickly.

"You have fun with her?"

"Um, uh...no?" he stammered out just as Rachel burst into laughter on the other end of the phone.

"You are way too easy, Ty. So what was on the disks?"

"Have you heard of the Omen virus?"

"The one your parents took down? Yeah."

Tyler couldn't help but roll his eyes, it seemed everyone he worked with knew about the famous Bartowskis.

"Well it looks like someone recreated it, put it onto different disks."

"Wonder why."

Tyler shrugged. "Who knows really? Hayes had the disks, I'm home and nobody got shot. I guess you could say it's a good day at the office for me."

"Touche," came Rachel's reply. "Found out where Anderson is?"

"Yeah, undercover or something. On a mission."

"Really?"

"Yep, me and Ricky were pretty surprised too. I mean he's a good spy, but he's kind of..."

"Old?"

"Yeah."

Rachel chuckled a bit. "Well you'll have to ask how he copes when he gets back."

"I guess so," he paused. "Look, it's getting late, so, see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Bye."

Tyler disconnected the call, thinking about everything. His parents didn't want him to be in this life, that was for sure. Being a spy had caused so many issues, yet when he was recruited, he couldn't say no. His original plan had been to become a criminal lawyer, put the bad guys behind bars, minus the shootouts, bombs and almost getting killed factors. Tyler had wanted to do more, to stop the problem before it got too far. To make a real difference.

* * *

**_Undisclosed Location_**

"Did you get it?" a male voice in a British accent spoke.

"It's done, but Williams is not clean with his handiwork, you know that," came the reply.

"Williams is just a pawn. We'll take care of him."

"Listen Mathias," the second man fidgeted a little. "I know this is first priority but is everyone really that expendable?"

"They are expendable if I say they're expendable," Mathias growled. "Understood?"

"Yes Sir."

"I gave Williams clear instructions and he insisted on doing the job his way. I can't have that."

"I understand, sir."

"Good, than go home."

The second man left, closing the door to the office behind him. As sure as Mathias was sure he was gone, he picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a number.

"This is Mathias, I need you to take care of Williams for me. Make it look like an accident."

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**AN: Well, what do you think? Thanks for reading and please review.  
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